The Miracle that Brotherhood Created
by cindy123
Summary: Sequel to Regrets of the Fallen...for all those who couldn't view it as a deathfic and requested by Issai. If you haven't read Regrets of the Fallen, you should really do that first before reading this one. It's a wee short one-shot so it won't take long! Hurt!d'Artagnan and heartbroken, but determined Inseparables with a little bit of Treville and Constance thrown in. One-shot


**Hello all. This is a follow up story to Regrets of the Fallen. If you remember, I had said that story could be seen as a deathfic, it was up to the reader to decide. Well, it was pretty obvious that most did not want to see it as a deathfic. Issai requested that I write a sequel showing how the Inseparables saved their Gascon, if I was so inclined. Well, I didn't want Regrets of the Fallen to be a deathfic either so I decided that I would write a follow up and here it is...though much later than I had wanted to post it. I hope you all enjoy!**

 **Cindy**

 **The Miracle that Brotherhood Created**

Aramis was lost, unable to help their Gascon, forced to sit and watch as the once exuberant, hot-headed, deeply loyal, compassionate young man before him quickly faded away. He swallowed thickly as tears rolled down his cheeks, his thoughts turning dark as he listened to the sounds of his brother's sorrow around him. What good was he if he couldn't save d'Artagnan? Or his other brothers for that matter, for if they lost their youngest, surely they would all be lost in one way or the other. And what of Constance? What would become of her? She was strong, but was she strong enough to survive the loss of her true love, the man she so obviously hoped to marry one day? Aramis thought not. This young man, this Gascon had found a place with all of them, had filled a void that they hadn't thought existed until the day he had stormed into the Garrison, intent on revenge. He had saved them when they didn't know they'd needed saving, and they had in turn saved him back. He was the glue that held them together and now, now that glue had been damaged beyond repair and it was only a matter of time before they all fell apart. The tears fell unabashedly from Aramis' eyes as the sorrow of what was coming filled him. So lost was he in that sorrow that he didn't at first hear his name being shouted. It took a slap to the face to bring him back to the horror of the scene he found himself a part of.

"What?" the medic asked in a daze, uncertain as to who had hit him, or why.

"We have to get him to the garrison!" Athos shouted, his face alight with panic. "Aramis! Listen to me! We must save him!"

"I…I can't, Athos. His wounds are beyond me…I'm afraid they are beyond all help," Aramis responded dully as he looked up at his friend.

"So you aren't even going to try? He saved us, Aramis, and you are just going to let him die?" the swordsman cried, tears leaving streaks in the soot on his face.

Aramis bristled at the words thrown at him. "Don't say that, Athos! Don't you say that! Do you truly believe if there was something I thought I could do that I wouldn't be doing it already?!" he hollered brokenly.

Athos' eyes softened and he reached forward with a shaky hand and gripped the medic's arm. "I'm sorry, Aramis. I know it is bad, but look…he still breathes…he is fighting and we must fight too. As long as there is breath in his lungs and his heart still beats, we must do all that we can and if…if then it still isn't enough, then, and only then will we stop."

Aramis looked down at the young man who lay in front of him and he saw it. He saw what Athos saw. d'Artagnan's eyes were open once again and there was fire in their depths. He looked up and met Athos' gaze, a slight flutter of hope coming alive within him and he nodded. He shifted his gaze to Porthos and saw the hope there in the large man's eyes as well.

"We must move him, but we have to be careful," Aramis said, his eyes darting around for anything they could use to carry their beloved brother home. All of the sudden musketeers appeared before them, their eyes widening as they took in their fellow musketeers. Athos looked to the senior musketeer, Bastien and called out to him.

"Quickly! Send someone to fetch a surgeon and bring him to the garrison!"

Bastien nodded and turned, calling out to the closest musketeer, then turned back when the man nodded and ran off. "You'll need something to take him back to the garrison on! A wagon perhaps?" he queried as his eyes went to Aramis.

"No…the ride will be too rough. We need something that we can place him on that we can carry back to the garrison," Aramis replied hurriedly.

Bastien nodded and instructed his men to search for anything they could use. Aramis watched the men scatter than quickly removed his jacket, then shirt. He balled the shirt up and pressed it to d'Artagnan's most grievous wound. He looked up at Athos and tipped his head to the swordsman's neck. "Your scarf, Athos! Tie it tightly around him to hold the shirt in place!" he instructed as his eyes moved back to look at d'Artagnan's face when the young man groaned softly.

Athos nodded and pulled the scarf from around his neck. As gently as he could he moved the scarf beneath the young man then over the makeshift dressing that Aramis was still pressing to the Gascon's side. He tied it off then leaned back and let out a shaky breath. He took up d'Artagnan's hand and held it until two musketeers ran up with a wide bench.

"Will this work?" the musketeer in the lead cried.

Aramis glanced at the bench and nodded. It was only about a foot and a half wide and not long enough to fit the Gascon's entire length, but it would get the job done. He moved slightly to the side and instructed the musketeers to place the bench beside him. "I need scarves, or belts!" he cried. "Anything that we can use to strap him to the bench so he doesn't fall!" Within moments, several hands where thrust forward, the requested items they held more than enough to handle the job. Aramis moved further up toward d'Artagnan's head then the bench was moved until it was parallel to the young man's body. With Porthos at his head, Athos at his feet and Aramis at his side, d'Artagnan was lifted and gently eased onto the bench. The belts and scarves were used to secure him to the bench and with the help of a few musketeers, the Inseparables lifted the bench and began the thankfully short journey to the garrison. The other musketeers surrounded the group protectively, effectively keeping any nosy onlookers away. When they rushed through the garrison gates, the yard erupted with activity as musketeers were spurred into action by the sight of one of their own so seriously injured. Those carrying their precious burden eased the bench up the stairs and to the infirmary where the Inseparables carefully moved d'Artagnan from the bench to the table where work would begin to save his life.

The three musketeers were just finishing removing the last of d'Artagnan's clothing when the door burst open and a tall man with graying hair rushed into the room. He held a leather bag in his hand leaving no doubt that he was the surgeon they had requested. The man stepped up to the table and looked down at the young man who lay there. He took in the blood that coated the pale skin, the nearly colorless lips and dark smudges around his eyes and looked up to meet the first set of eyes he found.

"Why have I been summoned here? This man is as good as dead! You waste my time by dragging me from my office like this!" the doctor spat before abruptly turning and heading for the door. Before he could even reach the door, the mountain known as Porthos blocked his way, the look in his eyes bringing the man to an instant halt.

"You ain't leavin' until you've done all you can to save 'im," Porthos growled, his eyes taking on a feral glint.

The doctor turned his head and glanced over his shoulder at the patient and the two men who glared at him from where they stood protectively over the dying man. He turned back to Porthos and sighed.

"I'm sorry, but there is no saving him. It will only prolong his agony to try. You must let him go," the doctor said.

"'e risked 'is life to save ours an' we ain't lettin' ya leave until you've done all ya can to save 'is!" Porthos hissed. "If 'e does die, it ain't gonna be because we didn't do all that we could to save 'im!"

The doctor stood for a moment, then let his shoulders drop. "Very well, but you must know that this will not turn out the way you hope," he said before he turned and walked back to the table.

"Just do whatever you can to save him. Please," Athos said as the doctor placed his bag on the table at d'Artagnan's hip and opened it wide. "Aramis will assist you in any way that you need," he added as he tipped his head to the musketeer beside him.

The doctor looked up and met the medic's eyes. "You are educated in the art of medicine?" he asked.

"I have had a rather hands on education," Aramis responded.

"Well then, let's get started. I'll need hot and cold water…alcohol…bandages," the doctor said. Without hesitation, Porthos was out the door and calling for the water to brought up as quickly as possible. Aramis hurried around the room collecting the bandages and a bottle of brandy, which he brought back to the table and placed near d'Artagnan's bare feet.

"May we know your name, doctor?" Athos queried as he watched Porthos hurry back into the room.

"I am Dr. Reneux," the doctor replied as he leaned over to inspect the Gascon's wounds.

"Thank you for coming, Dr. Reneux," Athos said, his blue eyes moving to d'Artgnan's pained face.

The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when the door opened and two musketeers entered carrying the requested water. They were followed by a flustered and confused Captain Treville, who took one look at their youngest musketeer and stopped dead in his tracks. "What happened!?" the Captain demanded.

"It's a long story, Captain, and one that will have to wait until d'Artagnan is no longer in danger of meeting his maker," Aramis responded. Treville looked around the room, his eyes once again falling on the young man on the table and lingering there for several moments. "Keep me apprised of his condition," he said before he turned and walked out of the room, followed closely by the two musketeers who had brought the water.

Dr. Reneux cleared his throat as he looked at each man. "Shall we begin?" he said before he got to work at the impossible task of putting d'Artagnan back together.

Three hours later found the Inseparables watching as Dr. Reneux walked out the door, his work finished and theirs just beginning. The doctor had left a poultice to put on d'Artagnan's wounds and the recipe so that Aramis could mix more as needed. The doctor had expressed his amazement that d'Artagnan had survived through the surgery to repair his most serious wound and all of the other not quite so serious ones. He still had not sounded overly hopeful when he had finally departed, but the fact that d'Artagnan still breathed was enough to give all those who remained with him the hope they needed to get through the coming hours and days. The Gascon had been moved to a bed and the vigil had begun.

Captain Treville had shown up twice to check on d'Artagnan and at one point, Athos had to leave the room to console a nearly hysterical Constance when word had gotten to her about d'Artagnan's injuries. Finally, Athos had convinced her to be escorted back to the palace and put under the Queen's care until he could send word of d'Artagnan's condition.

Captain Treville had launched an investigation into what had happened since he couldn't get any information from any of his men. Musketeers had talked to witnesses who had all given basically the same story. The four musketeers had been headed toward the garrison when several men had attacked. The witnesses had all seen the youngest musketeer throw his body into the other three just before a small explosion had ripped through the passageway where the attack had occurred. The three musketeers who had been pushed to the ground had gotten up to fight the approaching attackers, apparently injury free, but the young musketeer had not moved. The musketeers had quickly taken their attackers down and had all but dove to their fallen comrade's side. The rest was filled in by Bastien who told of how he had taken a group of musketeers when they had heard the explosion and found the Inseparables surrounding d'Artagnan. What Treville had come away with was that d'Artagnan was a hero who had selflessly put himself between his brothers and the explosion he must have seen coming, and the truly horrifying fact that if the young Gascon didn't make it, he wouldn't just lose one good man, but four.

The hours went on and the Inseparables never left their youngest brother's side. Food and drink was brought to them so they could nourish themselves as they tended to d'Artagnan's needs. Finally, morning had dawned and still d'Artagnan lived, though he had developed a nasty fever. Dr. Reneux came back before the noon hour and was shocked to find that his young patient hadn't perished overnight. He gave Aramis a vile of liquid to give to d'Artagnan and instructed him how to get it down the young man's throat despite his continued unconsciousness, telling him that it would help with the fever. The doctor had checked the Gascon over, nodded and had left. As the day wore on, the Inseparables had taken turns resting while the others kept up the practice of cooling their youngest's skin with wet cloths and using Dr. Reneux's advice on how to get liquid into him. This continued throughout the day, then the night and into the following morning and continued in the same fashion for two more days, the Inseparables working tirelessly and without complaint to keep their youngest with them.

The early morning of the fourth day after the attack found Aramis and Athos asleep, one curled up on the other bed in the room and the other in a chair hunched over a small table near the fireplace. Porthos sat at d'Artagnan's bedside, the young man's hand held between both of his. He spoke softly to the Gascon, despite him still having not regained consciousness. A soft moan stilled his voice and the large man looked down to see the first signs that their youngest may be waking.

"d'Artagnan, wake up, pup," Porthos coaxed as he began to massage the young man's hand. He nearly cried out in joy when eyelids that had been stubbornly shut tight for days began to flutter. He noticed a fine sheen of sweat had formed on the Gascon's face and knew that his fever had finally broken. He pulled d'Artagnan's hand to his lips and placed the tenderest of kisses upon the blessedly cool knuckles, then rested the hand down on the bed. He cupped the young man's cheek and brushed his thumb over his brow, further coaxing him to wake. He looked up briefly when he sensed someone beside him and smiled when he met Athos' wide eyes. "'e's finally waking up, Athos!" Porthos cried softly, his voice carrying over to where Aramis slept on the other bed and pulling him from his slumber. Soon, all three Inseparables were surrounding the bed and tears of joy filled their eyes when finally, d'Artagnan opened his eyes.

Athos fell to his knees beside the bed and took the Gascon's hand into his. "There you are, finally," he whispered as tears trailed down his cheeks. d'Artagnan opened his mouth to speak, but days of disuse had rendered his voice useless. He licked dry lips and within seconds his head was lifted and a cup of cool water was placed at this mouth. He drank greedily, moaning his disapproval when the cup was pulled away.

"Slowly, mon fr`ere, lest you make yourself sick," Aramis scolded, his lips curled into a smile that crinkled his eyes. d'Artagnan nodded weakly and the cup was once again pressed to his lips. He drank more slowly this time then pulled away when exhaustion pulled at him. "Sleep, d'Artagnan…we will be here when next you wake," Aramis said fondly as he carefully laid the Gascon's head back upon his pillow.

When Dr. Reneux came at his normal time, just before noon, he was beyond surprised to find that d'Artagnan had awakened, however briefly it had been. He shook his head in wonderment as he checked each wound and found them healing faster than he could have ever hoped for. It was the middle of that night when d'Artagnan woke again. Athos retrieved a cup of broth that had been left on the hearth of the fireplace to warm and brought it over to the bed. With Aramis' help, they were able to get d'Artagnan to drink half the cup before he fell back to sleep. On the ninth day after the attack, Dr. Reneux entered the infirmary and stopped short when he found d'Artagnan propped up on several pillows, his face split by a wide smile as a pretty redhead sat next to him on the bed. The Inseparables were there of course, surrounding the bed and looking more at peace than the doctor had ever seen them.

"Dr. Reneux! Look who is finally awake when you are actually here!" Aramis exclaimed as he motioned the doctor over. The doctor nodded and walked across the room to stand at the end of the bed next to Porthos.

"It's a miracle, if ever I've seen one," Dr. Reneux softly said. "I didn't believe that this day would ever come, so grievous were your wounds, young man," he added as he looked directly into d'Artagnan's dark eyes.

d'Artagnan dipped his head and looked around at those gathered close by. "I hear that I owe you much for the part you played in this miracle," he said softly.

"You do not owe me anything. The sight of you awake, talking and smiling, is enough payment for me," Dr. Reneux stated. "It looks like I am no longer needed here, but I would still like to check in every few days to monitor his recovery, if that is alright," he added as he moved his gaze to Aramis.

"Of course! We would be hurt if you didn't come back around," Aramis replied with a wide smile.

Dr. Reneux nodded then returned his attention to his patient. "d'Artagnan, it is an honor to finally meet you after all these days," he said.

"And the same to you, Dr. Reneux. Thank you for everything," d'Artagnan said in reply. Dr. Reneux smiled then turned and left the room. Moments later, Constance pushed to her feet and smiled down at the Gascon.

"I must return to the palace, but I will be back just as soon as I am able," she said before leaning over and placing a chaste kiss on d'Artagnan's forehead. "You get some rest," she added when she saw d'Artagnan's eyes begin to droop. She left the four brothers without another word.

Three weeks after the attack found d'Artagnan, the Inseparables, Captain Treville and Constance all seated around a table that had been brought into d'Artagnan's room, the patient having been deemed well enough to leave the infirmary the week before. A large cake sat in the middle of the table and wine was served all around. d'Artagnan's smile was wide as he looked at each person at the table.

"You didn't really have to do this, you know," d'Artagnan said, his gaze moving to the pile of neatly wrapped packages that sat on the floor beside him.

"What, and completely forsake your birthday?" Aramis queried, his hand moving to cover his heart.

d'Artagnan smiled even wider and then laughed when Porthos could stand it no more and grabbed up the knife to cut into the cake.

"Porthos, really? Shouldn't it be the birthday honoree who cuts the cake?" Aramis queried with a grin.

Porthos looked at him, then around the table to find all eye upon him. "What? 'e's just sittin' there with that goofy grin on 'is face and this cake ain't gonna cut itself ya know!"

"It's fine…I don't mind at all," d'Artagnan stated. "As long as I get the first piece," he added when Porthos plunked a piece onto a plate and picked up his fork, ready to dig in.

Porthos' mouth fell open as he looked first at the piece of cake then at d'Artagnan, then finally at Constance whose glare was enough to send a shiver down his back. "I…uh…I meant to give it to ya…was just…ya know…uh…here, take it!" the large man sputtered as he slid the plate and fork along the table until it sat in front of the young man.

The room erupted with laughter and soon all present were eating cake and enjoying the others company, the stress of the past weeks finally behind them all. Once the cake was eaten, d'Artagnan opened his gifts, his eyes widening further with each package he opened. Tears filled his eyes as he looked up and found each person looking at him, smiles on every face.

"I…I don't know what to say. Thank you all so much. This has been…well, it's been one of the best days of my life," the Gascon said with a hitch in his voice.

Athos reached over and clapped the young man on the back and smiled. "Thank you, d'Artagnan, for making this day possible," he said.

"What do you mean?" d'Artagnan asked.

"You fought to remain with us. Nothing any of us did could have worked if you hadn't fought so hard and for that we are eternally grateful," Athos replied, his hand moving to cup the Gascon's neck affectionately.

"I couldn't have fought so hard if it weren't for all of you fighting for me. Even though I wasn't awake, somehow I knew how hard you would fight and I couldn't disappoint any of you," d'Artagnan softly said as he once again looked at each person in the room.

"It was a miracle, just as Dr. Reneux said, that kept you here with us," Aramis said as he lifted his glass and saluted the man of the hour.

"Yes, a miracle indeed," Captain Treville said as he too took in each face around the table before landing on d'Artagnan and stopping. "A miracle that brotherhood created."

 **The End**

 **So, what do you think? Plausible? Possible? Bunch of malarkey, but who cares because it's fanfic? Please let me know! Thanks for reading :D**

 **Cindy**


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